Resident Evil: Boston
by iamqueenregina
Summary: Part I of the Resident Evil: Cursed Saga. Based around Resident Evil, but with a OUAT twist. Emma Swan finds herself caught in the midst of corruption caused by the Umbrella Corporation. With zombie-like creatures after her blood, and the Umbrella Corporation after her head, will Emma survive the impending End of the World? Rated M for Violence, Gore, possible Sexual Content. OC's


**A/N: Well, here it is. I actually got this idea just randomly one day. Basically, it's been built up a lot and quite a few characters are actually OC Characters that are roleplayed on Tumblr. This will be the first part of a three part saga. The saga called _Resident Evil: Cursed_. I don't think there will be any express need to know about Resident Evil, but a basic understanding will probably help out. Now, I know this goes fairly slow at the start, but it will pick up, that I can assure you.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Once Upon A Time nor Resident Evil. Each OC Character is of their mun's creation and not my own. **

_At the beginning of the twenty-first century, the Umbrella Corporation had become the largest commercial entity in the United States. Nine out of every ten homes contain it's products. It's political and financial influence is felt everywhere. In public, it is the world's leading provider of: computer technology, medical products and healthcare. Unknown even to it's own employers, it's massive profits are generated by: military technology, genetic experimentation and viral weaponry. _

**Boston, 3rd of August, 2010  
18:34**

Everything was white. Opening her eyes - everything was white. The first thing she saw, what she wore, what shadowed her vision. White. She shivered, water cascading down her back as she lay on the tiled floor of the shower. _'What happened?_' She pushed herself up, arms shaking as her drenched hair fell over her shoulder. She blinked away the haze, shaking her head as she stumbled to her feet, falling forwards against the wall and holding herself up. She dragged the sheet up her body, holding it to her chest as she attempted to regain her balance. Her lips parted, inhaling deeply and she coughed. Stepping out of the shower, moving forward tentatively, her hand dragging across the wall - just in case, of course.

Padding from tile to hardwood floor, she turned, glimpsing over photos and papers. Emma. Right. That was her name. Emma. Slowly, softly, she lifted a hand and ran her fingers through her wet hair, glancing down at the blonde tresses that matted between her fingers. Her name was Emma, and she was wet. Turning away from the wall, Emma stepped across the floor and on to carpet. Glancing down, she frowned, toeing the shag beneath her before looking up once again, confused.

"What the hell happened?" She muttered, turning on the spot and searching for something, _anything_, that could answer her question.

As she turned, a noise echoing through the halls of her - mansion? - caught her attention. Tilting her head slightly, she made her way to the door. Softly stepping across the floor, she stood in the doorway, one hand resting against the wooden panel. Something - had caught her eye. Brow knitting together, she bowed her head and blinked, the barrel of what looked like a gun just visible through the crack in the drawers. _'Gun?_' Licking her lips, Emma turned her attention back to the hall, dark and foreboding. Cautiously, Emma made her way from the bedroom and down the hall, her footsteps echoing around her.

Something, she couldn't tell what, but something felt off. Something wasn't right. Maybe she should have grabbed the gun. She didn't know how to use it, or she didn't think she did, but she might have felt just a tiny bit safer. Maybe. Possibly. Probably not. Rounding a corner, Emma paused mid-step. A cold draft wafted through the open room, white cotton curtains blowing in the wind. It was all so - eery. Slowly, Emma wandered forward, one foot placed in front of the other. As she moved, the window blowing the curtains up and blocking her vision at some points, Emma froze. '_What is that?_' For a fraction of a second, something stood at the other end of the room, staring at her with barred teeth and torn flesh. Emma blinked, opening her eyes and stumbling backwards. It was gone.

She turned, curtains wrapping around her upheld hands, head turning back to the now empty corner of the room. Again, a sound distracted her. Snapping her gaze back to where she had come from, Emma cautiously stepped forward. Just feet from the entrance, the doors slammed open and Emma stumbled back. She opened her mouth to speak, to demand - possibly even to scream, but the intruders were quicker. Two grabbed her by the arms, holding her up and it was then she realised she was shaking, near collapsing to the ground. Her legs were weak, wobbling under her own weight. "What's going on? Who the fuck are you?!"

As she spoke, weakly struggling against the two - soldiers? - who held her up, a man strode through the door. Smirking beneath a black visor, he lifted the mask and revealed a face. Caucasian, blonde, tall - very tall. Emma frowned, shaking her head. She didn't know this man, not from what she could recall. "Actually, the question should be - who are you?" Emma narrowed her eyes, brow knitting together. "_What?_" What was with the cryptic redirection? She knew who she was. She was Emma. And she was - Emma glanced down, pursing her lips as she sighed - or rather, she had been wet.

"Bramble!" Emma jerked as the man in front of her suddenly shouted, a smaller soldier stepping out from the circle that Emma finally noticed surrounded her. "Yes sir?!" He shouted, though even Emma could hear the tension, the slight whine in the boy's - and she was sure he was just a boy - voice. "Take the twins and scout the perimeter. Find Cassidy." Emma watched as 'Bramble' nodded firmly, gesturing to two other's before turning and slipping through the curtains, disappearing to the other side of the hall. She considered warning them of the - the whatever it was - that she had seen, but that was just a hallucination. Right? Looking up as she swayed on her feet, Emma glared at the imposing figure standing in front of her. "Who _are_ you?"

"The names's Peter, and that's all you're gettin'." Speaking gruffly, the blonde soldier stared down at Emma before nodding his head at the two supporting her. Quickly, and unexpectedly, they released their hold and Emma shakily stood on her feet. Turning to glare at the two, they merely stared back behind black-tinted visors, small smirks playing on their lips. Emma's hands curled in to fists at her side, knuckles turning white and nails digging in to her palms. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Turning, the blonde narrowed her eyes as another figure emerged from the darkness. "Oh? And why not?" As the new stranger in what she assumed was her house stepped forward, Emma squinted. A woman, of course. She could tell just by her voice. Brunette, foreign - Emma's eyes raked down the other woman's figure, taking in the outfit and the lab coat, noting the gun strapped to a holster by her side, safety on. Blinking, Emma shook her head. How did she know these things? The brunette stepped forward, smiling serenely at her as she stuck out her hand. "My name is Belle French. It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Swan." Swan? Oh, right. Her maiden name. Emma Swan. Made sense. Eyeing the hand extended towards her, Emma lifted her gaze to Belle's. "What shouldn't I do?" She bit through her teeth, stepping back from Belle and lowering her gaze to the still outstretched hand.

Smiling, Belle lowered her hand to her side, ghosting over her hip where the gun lay resting. "You'll break your skin. In this house - that's not the best idea. Exposure Ms. Swan." Oh yeah, as if that totally didn't confuse her even more. Emma blinked, opening her mouth in an attempt at questioning the brunette's sanity when a startled yelp echoed through the hall. Turning, the blonde blinked again, narrowing her eyes and focusing on the man being led towards her. For a moment, a split second, images flashed through her head.

Codes.

Guns.

Running.

Touching.

Gasping.

Skin.

Fire.

Emma shook her head, blinking rapidly against that once again invaded her vision. As they approached, the soldier Peter had called 'Bramble' gently shoving the man forward, Emma stepped to the side, allowing him to stand where she had stood just seconds before. Unlike with her, the brown-haired man was pushed to his knees, eyes gazing upwards defiantly. "What - the - fuck?" He growled, staring at Peter just as, Emma realised, she had moment before. "Is it going to be this repetitive?" The blonde soldier muttered, rolling his eyes and stepping past the man kneeling before him. "Alright, let's move out!" He called, walking away from the both of them, leaving Emma to turn back to the man with a raised eyebrow. "Who're you?" She asked, frowning as he repeated the words back, nearly in-sync with herself.

Belle smiled secretively, wandering between them and off-handedly remarking 'You're married.'

**New York City, 3rd of August, 2010  
14:30**

"Uh - sir? We're receiving some - _strange_ readings from The Hive." Stanley Merchant turned from the screen held before him, arms folded as he strode down the ramp and stood at the technician's side. "What? What 'readings'?" The technician, a previous lab worker who was transferred upon Mr. Merchant's orders, grimaced, shaking her head as she typed rapidly. "I don't - I don't know. The Prince sir, he's gone off the grid!"

Stanley blinked, bending forward to stare at the screen. This was wrong. Everything, all of it - wrong. Standing straight, Stanley barked out orders. "Clear the Prince, get the systems back online - I want eyes in The Hive. Show me!" Turning on his heel, Stanley stalked across the floor, swiping his I.D Card through identification and huffing with impatience as her leant forward, retinal scan completely in just seconds. Before the door was even fully open, the older man hurried through. Hurrying through the halls, Stanley lifted his arm and shook his wrist, staring at the watch.

Two-thirty in the afternoon.

He still had time.

Provided this wouldn't set him back.

As he slipped in to a corporate office, hand pressing against the wall and lifting a remote, Stanley fell in to his chair, the epitome of dignitary, of _importance_. '_Clearly, not important enough', _he thought bitterly, angrily. Pressing the first button, he folded his arms over he chest, resting them on the desk. As the screen in front of him flickered to life, Stanley glared at the red Umbrella insignia. The global corporation was not his most favoured of employers, though they seemed more like 'clients' to him than his so called bosses. Stanley scoffed. Bosses? He was his own boss - and now? The boss wasn't happy.

"Mr Merchant, what can Umbrella Corp do for you to-"

"I don't have time for formalities. Transfer me to Gold, _now_."

Hesitation. Why did they always hesitate? Stanley tensed his jaw, raising his brow at the secretary. It wasn't her fault of course. He was just concerned, and in a _particularly_ foul mood. "Of course Mr Merchant." Tapping a pen against the desk, Stanley stared ahead, waiting for the old man's image to pixelate on the flat-screen tv built in to the wall.

"Ah Stanley - It's not Monday."

Stanley narrowed his eyes, staring in to the dark depths of Mr Rupert Gold, the 'CEO' of Umbrella, the public face. Of course, Stanley knew better. He had his own sources, his own secrets. And he knew all there was to know about his associates. Or rather, he thinks he does. Gold was a tricky business partner. He was slippery, cryptic - his deals were often more benefitting to himself then to his clients. Stanley had to watch him rather closely. Evidently, not close enough. "I don't give a damn about what day it is Gold, what the bloody hell is going on in The Hive?"

Now, Stanley had been in the business a very long time. Long enough to know the trades of most people in charge of rather interesting secrets. Mr Gold was no different. A slight tensing of the jaw, the hint of a crinkle in his eyes, a wrap of his hand around his cane - oh yes. He was hiding something. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. The Hive is an environmental research and development centre. An underground testing facility, you know that."

Stanley shook his head once, bowing it slightly with a tense jaw and clenching teeth. "_Bullocks_! I've got readings and scans and codes and all that god damned jazz telling me otherwise Gold." There were plenty of things that Stanley Merchant did not stand for, that he disliked with a burning passion. Being used, lied to and deceived? All actions that were placed on the list. "What are you doing under Bosto? And don't _fucking_ lie to me Gold." Stanley winced as the words stressed through his teeth, biting the inside of his cheek as he leant back in his chair. Swearing. Actual swearing. If that didn't tell the older man he was pissed, nothing short of holding him up by his throat would.

Gold pursed his lips, brow rising with thought as he stared at Stanley. The man in question forced himself not to shift under the scrutiny, the dark gaze of the man who was nothing more but pixels to him unsettling. Gold had always had that affect, but Stanley had never let that show. Advantages over adversaries were highly appreciated in Merchant Industries, and the underestimations of the man in charge himself was just one of man. Rupert Gold stared back at Stanley, both men stoically facing the other in a silent battle of will. Finally, Gold relented, falling back against his own chair and curling long fingers over the hand resting on his cane. "The Hive is - not what you were originally briefed on." Stanley narrowed his eyes, but remained silent. "It _is _a testing facility, but not for environmental advancements. For biological warfare and viral weaponry. We're developing a - product, Mr Merchant. A product that will no doubt change the world."

Shaking his head, Stanley tensed his jaw once again, flexing his hand around the pen he was previously tapping against the desk. "Why wasn't I informed? You are well aware of my standards and what my company and in turn my entire _empire_ stand for. We are do not deal in weaponry, not of this calibre. And I will not fund this kind of research." As he spoke, Stanley discretely lowered his hand to beneath the desk under the guise of gripping the chair handle. Pressing a hidden button beneath his desk, Stanley narrowed his eyes at Gold as the older man spoke. "I'm afraid withdrawal is too late Mr Merchant. We have already - depleted our funds."

Nodding stiffly, Stanley filed information such as that away mentally, already compiling a list of what he need and need not do. "And the scans? The transcript we received a little less then ten minutes ago? What about them? What is going on in The Hive, Gold?" Rupert smiled serenely, a calm façade that Stanley saw through, picking up on nothing but menacing madness. "The Hive is none of your concern Mr Merchant. Not anymore. Umbrella Corporation thanks you for your previous support but - effective immediately - you're services are no longer required. Have a good day Mr Merchant." With little chance to respond, to argue though Stanley had already known he would be withdrawing his contract with the multibillion dollar company, the connection cut and Stanley was left to stare at a blank screen, the Umbrella Corp logo spinning in and out of focus before disappearing with a click.

Pressing his thumb against the hidden button once again, the glass door of his office was pushed open and his secretary stood in the doorway. "Sir? You need to see this." Pushing away from his desk, Stanley glanced once to the lifeless screen before striding out of his office, the door closing with a thud behind him.

**Boston, 3rd of August, 2010  
18:40**

"So... Married?"

Emma twisted her body as she walked forward, staring at the man she was supposedly 'married' to. "Apparently." She muttered, once again turning her gaze forward and following Peter closely. As they moved through the hall, the silence was quickly becoming unnerving. It was odd, the kind of silence that made your skin crawl and the pit of your stomach drop. The blonde didn't trust these people, but then - she didn't exactly trust herself. "Don't you think we should - I dunno - know each other's names or something?"

Pausing, Emma closed her eyes and sighed, opening them slowly and turning to the man that was quickly starting to irritate her. "Emma." She bit out through clenched teeth, folding her arms around her chest and hugging her torso, uncomfortable. "Neal." He introduced, nodding firmly. Emma blinked, the name registering in her head but no connection being made. Staring at Neal for only seconds, Emma turned and hurried her steps, moving to walk alongside Peter as Belle trailed along in the centre of the group. _'The most protected_', Emma noted. "What happened to us? Why can't I - _we_ - remember anything?"

Peter glanced down at the blonde, eyes flitting across to Belle's, who promptly nodded. Lifting a hand and calling for a halt, the group of soldier stopped, circling the three 'civilian's' with their guns pointed outwards. Knocking the tip of his nose with his thumb and crossing his arms over his own chest. "A little over four hours ago, the two of you were hit with a - a nerve gas, of sorts. It temporarily paralysed you, caused you to lose consciousness." Emma glanced behind her, meeting the confused gaze of Neal with mirrored expressions. "Why?" She asked, turning back.

Peter licked his lips, turning his head away and seemingly battling with himself on what to divulge. "The mansion we're about to vacate? It's not exactly a mansion. It's a cover. You were both assigned here as security, to ensure that nothing got in - or out - of this area." Quirking his head, he continued to walk, the circle keeping formation as Emma and Neal stumbled behind him. "Beneath the building is a railway. It'll take us deep underground, right beneath Boston, where The Hive is located."

"The Hive?"

Peter nodded once, coming to a halt before what looked like a mirrored wall. Stepping forward, he pressed his hand against the wall and pushed forward. The mirror slid to the side, a passage revealing itself and lighting upon entry. Emma glanced around, her own image reflecting back at her. Tentatively, she lifted a hand and ran her fingers through her hair, relieved it had finally dried and settled. "What's 'The Hive'?" Turning to Neal, Emma dropped her hand and looked towards Peter, her own curiosity building. "The Hive is a facility run and maintained by the Umbrella Corporation. They specialise in various areas, but the Boston centre? They've been working on something called the T-Virus."

Emma froze mid-step, the flashes returning to invade her vision, flitting through her mind at a rapid pace.

_"I don't understand. What is it you want me to do?"_

_"Find the T-Virus. Destroy it. I was wrong, it's not what it was supposed to be. It - It mutated. It needs to be contained Ms. Swan. Now, before anyone get's hurt."_

_"Hurt? What do you mean hurt?"_

_"The T-Virus. It - It reanimated dead tissue. It - I created it to save my son. I had no idea it would get so - out of hand."_

_"I don't -"_

_"Promise me you will find the virus and destroy it. Inside The Hive, it cannot become public."_

_"Any means necessary?"_

_"Any means necessary."_

_"Understood M-"_

Emma snapped from her flash, breathing erratically and until the haze cleared and she realised she was being supported by Neal. "You okay?" Nodding, Emma straightened her back and blinked, her brow creased as the twins pulled back a large rolling door and corralled them all in through to the train they found waiting for them. Who was that she had been speaking to, and what the hell was the 'T-Virus'?

**A/N: I'd like to thank Luke and Nesh for letting me borrow Bramble and Stanley for this. If anyone wants updates on how the story is coming along, you can find them at .com or .com. Both of them are mine and will post regular updates. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. **


End file.
